


Something just like this.

by Pikkon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drinking, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:14:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23803705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pikkon/pseuds/Pikkon
Summary: Dean finds some mystery booze and makes a suggestion to Cas.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50





	Something just like this.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. This is my first attempt to write fanfiction with an intent to publish it.  
> 2\. English isn't my mother tongue, so sorry for the mistakes if there's any!
> 
> This was fun to write and it is a ship I have loved for a long time. It's focused somewhere in 9th season, but very vaguely with slight changes.
> 
> My roommate gave me this idea and inspiration came from the songs Jumalan Kämmenellä by Antti Tuisku and Something just like this by The Chainsmokers & Coldplay.
> 
> Betaed by Betamin.
> 
> Related art piece done by me in here: https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/81008419 :)

It had been a rough week for the one and only Dean Winchester, which wasn't really an exception in his already disastrous life. The hunter had spent most of his time in New York city's sewers, looking for, as witnesses had described, man-sized mutant turtles that had taken on the hobby of stalking innocent reporter ladies and using their entrails as pizza toppings. But what could you do when your good-for-nothing dad's old friend asks help with catching the beasts terrorizing his neighborhood? Family business, you know?

Sam had been thrilled about a job, but considering the events of the last few months and their effect on the Winchester brothers - especially on his little brother's health - Dean could not let his only living family member work a case with a clean conscience just yet. Sam needed rest, no matter whether the self-denying idiot wanted it or not. Luckily, a local hunter couple had offered their help with tracking the mutants, which filled his baby brother's absence fine enough. Sadly, one of them ended up being the last victim of this tragedy, poor son of a bastard.

Killing the monsters felt a small consolation at the moment, but Dean knew all too well from his own experience what the hunter's life meant and sometimes it demanded sacrifices. At least the old-timer had gotten an honorable death, and the people unaware of the dangers lurking in the night were safe for now.

Deep in his thoughts Dean took a turn to a solitary road in a remote part of Lebanon, Kansas and sighed in relief. His eyes swept across the massive stonewalls of the safe haven that had once belonged to a secret society called the Men of Letters. Finally, he was home.

With sure hands he drove his dear Impala Chevrolet through the tunnel leading to a parking hall full of old classics, every one of them still in top condition. Something about the sleek metal frames and polished rims brought calmness to the older Winchester's mind and made him forget the gore and losses of his job for a moment. He parked the car in a vacant slot near the '37 Junior Scout motorcycle, and when the Impala's engine stopped purring the exhaustion finally caught up with him. He was drained and stank like a garbage can left rotting in summer's scorching heat.

It took him a moment to pull himself together and get out of the car with the worn-out bag containing a messy selection of plaid shirts and hunter's tools. The weary man gave his baby a couple of pats on the front cover: ”Thanks for the ride, hun”, Dean grinned and threw the bag on his jammed shoulders with a pained groan and headed towards the staircase that lead upstairs.

The bunker welcomed him with it's familiar warm embrace. The stale smell of the years gone by lingered in the hall's air and the whirring of old mechanics producing electricity for the lights and security systems echoed on the thick, patinated walls. Dean almost felt like a cheerful whistle could escape his lips, if it hadn't been so out of character for him. He settled to rest a content smile on his face, and took a brisk pace to the library's direction.

There, hunching over the table with a stern look on his face, sat his brother, nose buried deep into an old leather-bound book with eerie symbols on it. Dean slammed his bag on the table, startling the younger Winchester .”Well, you sure took your time with those mutant ninja turtles”, Sam said with raised eyebrows, stretching his long limbs that had gone stiff in the uncomfortable antique chair.

Dean was detecting a tinge of amusement in his voice. In the end, the monsters had turned out to be four martial art hobbyists, who had gotten themselves mixed in a nasty curse that had changed them into green, blood hungry monsters with kung-fu skills. He couldn't really blame Sam for being upset about missing a case this awesome, but thankfully it seemed like his dirty, freshly risen from a grave dug in a landfill appearance had soothed his little brother's vexation.

”Shut up”, he retorted. ”I'd gladly see you try beat a reptile Bruce Lee with fangs and claws”, Dean threw a cranky look at his brother before throwing his bag on an empty chair and turning towards the kitchen. Sam opened his mouth, probably intending to correct his brother that turtles weren't reptiles, but settled to burying his interest back into the aged yellow pages, when Dean's back disappeared from the door frame.

Not even Sam's wisecracking could affect Dean's new found good mood. The thought of a soft, clean bed and real food tickled Dean's mind. In his life-long career as a hunter, he had grown used to sleeping on squeaking, rock hard motel beds and eating questionable road food, but after they had found an actual decent place to live in, longer hunts had been taking a toll on him. For a moment a scary thought of him getting too old for this line of work loomed in his mind.

Dean took a quick peek in their fridge and hauled some left over chicken legs and fries in his arms, disappointed to realize they were out of beer. Mouth full of cold fries, he walked back to the library scanning the room, finding something missing.

”So, where is Cas?” he asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as he could. Sam tore his eyes from the brick he was reading, looking a little bit annoyed about the constant distraction. ”Dunno, he left a while back to get something from the store”, he said.

Dean's face puckered up to a question mark: ”To get what?” It was not like Castiel had no business buying stuff. After moving in with them to the bunker, following the incident of him losing his grace and then getting some angel magic back, Cas had taken an interest in trying various foods and drinks Dean and Sam seemed to enjoy. He did not get as much joy out of consuming food and beverages, naturally. As the angel himself had said he ”tasted every molecule and it made it less enjoyable”, but that did not stop him from trying. And apparently he also liked browsing through the monthly Catlovers-issue in the local Gas-n-Sip, though Dean had lectured him that it was rude and he should buy the magazine if he liked it.

”I don't know Dean, he didn't say. You know him better than me, what Cas usually buys from the store”, Sam's tone had a noticeably bitchy vibe, that suggested more than what he had said. Dean's eyes strayed to the ceiling and a light flush colored his cheeks. He coughed uneasily and stuffed a whole chicken leg into his mouth to avoid answering to Sam.

Like summoned, a flutter of wings filled the room and a soft voice called: ”Hello Dean”. Castiel had appeared next to him, holding two plastic bags in his hands. Light hoodie and jeans had replaced the notorious beige trench, and his dark brown hair was ruffled by outside air . ”I heard you were coming back, so I thought you could appreciate a fridge full of cold beer,” he said, raising the bag that gave away a joyful clink.

”You bought beer?” Dean blinked, face lighting up. ”You are an angel, Cas!”

Castiel glanced at Dean, tilting his head like a confused puppy: ”Yeah, I am. I thought it was pretty obvious.”

Dean chuckled to his friends literal interpretation of the compliment before accepting the opened beer from his hand. ”It's good to be back”, he sighed

_

After a long shower the older Winchester had changed his sewage dirt covered clothes to a casual black t-shirt and loose sweatpants. A damp towel on his shoulders, he left his room intending to sit his tired ass on the couch with a cold beer in his hand and taking it easy before zoning out.

He had probably made a funny turn at some point, because soon after leaving his room Dean found himself in a hallway that didn't seem familiar. The bunker was big, and frankly they had not had the time to explore all of it's mysterious rooms and passages. Dean looked around to find some kind of a clue where he was. The lighting was dimmer than in the hallway leading to his and Sam's room, and the ceiling curved a little bit forming an arch. Shut doors were scattered on hall's both sides, most of them seemingly locked. _He would take Sammy to explore those rooms later_ , Dean thought continuing his journey. At the end of the hall waited a wide wooden door, chipped and covered in black tarnish.

Dean walked closer to investigate, seeing up close that the door had large painted symbol on it that he recognized to be an angel ward. One big iron latch was holding it secured and Dean clenched his fist around the latch, trying to yank it open. The latch was so scorched with rust that it took quite a while and all of Dean's honed strength to pull it up. The door let out a loud whine as it creaked open. A moldy smell of cellar hit his nose and he tried to fumble a light switch in total darkness. When he finally found it, the room gave out a loud buzz and a row of industrial light bulbs came alive. Magical power cords probably had not as good a reach in this room, as the lights seemed to be flickering on low energy.

The room was big and decorated with high shelves skimming the ceiling. They were stocked full of bottles gleaming in the pale light. Dean reached to examine the closest brownish glass container and rubbed it's dust covered surface, revealing a faded label. He laughed in surprise, to think the Men of Letters had tried to protect this treasure hold from angels.

-

Sam and Castiel were already settled in the living room. It was actually an old storage room they had successfully renovated: The guys had brought two leather sofas to fill up the space and a sturdy table made from an old oak door was placed in the middle, its top carved full of ancient runes. They sat on their own seats, legs relaxed and backs leaning on the soft cushions, arguing as dryly as they could about the translation of a dead language used by an ancient civilization living in northern Europe, a topic Sam had picked up from the book he had read earlier.

Their conversation was interrupted when Dean stormed into the room with a gleeful shine on his face. ”You'll never guess what I found”, he declared victoriously. Sam and Cas threw a confused look at each other before turning to Dean. He was holding a thick glass bottle in his outstretched hand and guys leaned closer to read the handwritten label. ”Magnus's Devil Spirit...?” Sam spelled with squinted eyes. ”What is it?” he asked, not as impressed as Dean had hoped. ”Moonshine!” Dean shouted, signing wildly at the liquid in his hand. Castiel wrinkled his nose in bewilderment. ”Moonshine?”

”Yeah, home made alcohol by the Men of Letters themselves” Dean explained: ”I guess spells weren't the only thing they were cooking in here. There is a cellar full of this stuff near our bedrooms.”

Sam had conjured that familiar, judging scout boy look on his face. ”You aren't seriously thinking of drinking that stuff?”

Dean glanced at him, mouth pressed in a defiant ribbon. ”It would be a shame to just leave these rot on those musty shelves. They were intended to be enjoyed by Men of Letters, and as it stands, we are the last garrison of preceptors, observers, beholders, chroniclers of mysteries not easily explainable or known to men”, Dean preached in the highfalutin voice he used when giving speeches, usually stolen from someone else's script.

Sam was reduced wordless for a moment. ”Would have not expected you to take that moto to your heart” he finally sneered while taking a sip from his own beer.

”It was written behind the bottle”, Dean admitted, not even remotely recoiling. ”But it doesn't change the fact that this is a rare occasion to have us three together, not possessed or hunted or, I don't know, dead. We could all use a break”, he continued glancing at Cas whose eyes were fixed on Magnus's Devil Spirit.

”Dean, I don't think this drink was meant for the Men of Letters. There is enochian written on the label”, he said standing up and pointing at black ink under the title. Dean's eyes dropped to the piece of paper glued to the bottle's side, and indeed it had a small print of angelic symbols on it.

”What does it say?”

”Something along the lines that this particular spirit is made for heavenly hosts, humans possessed by angel's grace”, Cas translated: ”Even if you wanted to, I'm not sure you could drink it”

The Winchesters' eyes met and the mention of a drink only meant for angels awakened even Sam's interest. ”What the heck is this made from then?” Dean huffed shaking the bottle, like he could see the components separating from the dark liquid if he watched the flow inside the brown glass closely enough. ”Looks like a mixture of grain and herbs”, Cas focused his energy to examining the concoction.

”You mean like absinthe or something like that?” Sam asked like a good student from Stanford. Dean heard that scholar like excitement in his brother's voice, which always flavored his tone when there was a chance to learn something new about this world. _Sammy would have made an excellent Man of Letters_ , he thought, smiling.

”Well, the base is very similar. But there are some ingredients you could call ”magical” and not meant for humans to consume”, Cas continued explaining patiently.

”So, are you telling me this guy made booze just to get an angel drunk?” Dean snorted.

”It was probably used for interrogation. But technically yes, it would get an angel drunk if the label is to be believed”, Cas stated. Gears started to move in Dean's head. ”So, if you'd drink this, it would get you drunk?” he asked with a sly smile on his lips. A story Sam had told him about Castiel and a liquor store crossed his mind. He had vague memory of drunk celestial being that he had met in their hotel room, and the thought of revisiting the memory made excitement wind in his belly. Castiel looked at him suspiciously: ”If this Magnus guy knew what he was doing. But I doubt it.”

”Well, if you don't believe it'd work, you could have a little taste of it,” Dean suggested, holding the bottle out for Castiel.

”Dean, I don't think that is such a good idea”, Sam butted in, looking worriedly at the Devil Spirit, like it could combust any minute.

”Come on Cas, give it a shot!” Dean urged. He knew that he sounded like a frat boy trying to prove something at his first fraternity party and that it was a reckless attitude to adopt, but Dean had a total bust of a week behind him and was in a dire need of distraction. And, at the moment, drunk Cas singing gospels from the top of his lungs sounded like the best one.

Sam's judging stare prickled at him when Castiel took the spirit. He looked at the bottle with a little bit of disgust: ”I don't really see the point in drinking unknown liquids found from the cellars of paranoid conspiracy theorists”, he said with a snarky tone that he had recently discovered owning. Sassy Cas looking at him with that challenging flare in his eyes made Dean's heart skip a beat and he let a proposal slip his mouth before thinking how wise it was: ”You know what buddy? If you drink this bottle, I will go grab another one, courtesy of Magnus, from that cellar and we can see who lasts longer.”

Both Sam and Cas looked at him like he had lost his mind: ”Is that really a good idea, this stuff could easily kill you!” Sam huffed. Dean rolled his eyes, tired of his brother mother-henning him. ”I think I saw some normal stuff there, without any enochian or devil's in them. I will go find one”.

And so Dean disappeared for a moment, coming back with his hands full of clinging bottles with faded labels written in the same clean handwriting.

”I thought you said one” Sam sighed disappointed. Dean glanced at him with a cheeky grin: ”I brought you one also, party pooper. And some more for our ”not-getting-drunk” angel here”, handing over two more bottles of Devil Spirit to Cas, who reluctantly took them. ”Don't worry, ours is just normal whiskey. I think”, he reassured his brother who had opened a lighter brown bottle and sniffed the liquid dubiously. Dean set three identical glasses on the table and filled his and Sam's with amber-like drink, and Castiel's with the murkier and greenish Devil Spirit. Despite Sam's earlier unenthusiastic attitude, curiosity won him over and Sam brought the beverage to his lips, appearing to be pleasantly surprised by the taste of it. ”Bottoms up!” Dean shouted, raising his own glass and taking a big swig from it.

-

The clock was about 2:00 am and Sam had already given up hours ago. He had retreated to his bed, after giving his last piece of motherly advice ”to take it easy”. Sometimes it felt like Sammy was actually the older one of the two, with his healthy diet combined with a yoga routine and eight hours of sleep per night. _Nerd_ , Dean scoffed in his head and chuckled at his own wittiness. _Oh boy, he really was drunk_. _But so was Cas,_ he noted, satisfied. The angel was swaying across the table, an almost empty bottle of Magnus's Devil Spirit in his hand. The first bottle had went down easily, Cas commenting the taste as ”earthy” and ”grapey”. The second bottle had made him loosen up a little, making him laugh at Dean's jokes louder than usual, and attempting to translate some enochian ones, not with great success. Still no gospels though, Dean thought disappointed.

With the bottom of the second bottle, the memory of meeting this version of Castiel crawled in his chest with long nails tearing at wounds that had not fully healed.

At the time, this relaxed and sincerely happy Cas had been unavailable for him. Either it was a future that had no place for Dean, at least not for Dean in this timeline, or Castiel's mind wiped and mended by someone else, so that memories of Dean Winchester had no meaning to him. Thinking about it made him uncomfortable and brought forth a clutching anxiety that maybe Castiel would be happier without Dean storming in his life time after time with all the fuck ups he dragged behind him. Dean shoved the last bottle of Devil spirit in front of Cas, as if just making him drink more would erase the feeling.

After the third bottle Castiel was really a goner. He had a hard time focusing his eyes and bringing the drink to his lips to finish it. Dean laughed, drunk as a skunk himself too. ”Cas, just stop. You've already lost”, he smirked and stood up to retrieve a drink. ”Shut up Dean, I'm still awake”, he protested, voice mushing. Dean scoffed: ”Did you just tell me to ”shut up”?”

”What if I said?” Cas raised his hooded eyes with a devilish look on his angelic face. Dean's heart jumped, and there it was again. That hidden desire that gnawed at his insides and rippled down to his crotch. He reached to help Cas get up: ”Ok bad boy, I think it's your time to go to bed” he stated and tried to take the bottle from the drunken angel. But Castiel pulled it away and suddenly rose from the chair, gulping down the last drops dancing on the bottom of the bottle”Your turn Winchester!” he shouted in ecstasy, flinging his arm in Dean's direction and missing him slightly on the right.

”I think we have had enough buddy”, Dean smiled, trying to support wobbly Castiel who was now leaning on him. Cas's hands clung onto Dean's shirt and his warm breath pressed against the hunter's collar, making Dean's heart rumble like a galloping herd of horses.

”Dean...”, Cas muttered suddenly: ”I'm... I am sorry that I left you”. His blue eyes rose to find Dean's, but the audible shame in his voice made him look away. Dean's whole body ceased to move and the drumming noise of his heart surged to his ears, quieting down to a numbing buzz. The sudden apology had frozen him like a deer in headlights. Ready to flee any moment. He wanted to say it was okay but being the stubborn ass that he was, he heard himself asking: ”Then why did you leave?”

Cas' stare returned to the floor and Dean felt his grip tightening. The question had hurt, he knew, and the pressure clumping in his throat got bigger.

”I... Dean. I had to protect you. You know that”, the angel said, voice cracking. Dean had heard this excuse before, they were the words that haunted him in his bed when he closed his eyes and saw Castiel in purgatory, messy and alone. Words that had stopped him when he was driving the Impala on an empty highway and thought he had seen a familiar man in a trench coat on the side of the road, just to be greeted by the mournful humming of the wind. Words that singed his cheeks as tears flowed and a prayer left his coarse lungs. ”Well, knowing that didn't make it any easier”, Dean rasped, feeling sorrow heating behind his eyes: ”I was worried about you, man! You didn't answers my prayers, you didn't call. I didn't know whether you were alive or dead. And it wasn't the first time, I'm always left behind, wondering...”

The words stuck in his throat like a side way dagger. Suddenly, Dean was at a loss for words. Hidden fear bellowed under his ribs, sensing the chains getting weaker. For so many years Dean had been able to just lock all of it under his skin, burying it deeper every time Castiel had shown signs of letting him go. He had told himself Cas deserved better. That this thing he was feeling was just gratitude towards an angel for saving him from hell. That whatever they had between them was just a phase, just a reflection of loneliness and longing for something normal, some physical redemption that had no deeper meaning. He had been reasoning to himself, knowing all along they were just weak consolations for the time when Castiel would say his final goodbye to him. But now the dam was cracking, and Dean's drunken brain had no self-control over stopping it from breaking. ”Wondering if you even really wanted to be with me?” words echoed in the empty room ringing back to Dean's own ears, immediately making him regret saying them.

Castiel's hands collared Dean's shirt before he had time to register him moving. His mouth sank on his lips, open and wet. Cas's prickly stub scratched his skin, when he adjusted his head to welcome the angel's tongue against his own. It was a whole new thrill that rushed like lightning in his veins and made him loose control. He shut his eyes, letting Cas take the lead, grasping at any inch of the angel he could find, pulling him deeper in. The kisses were raw and needy and sapped everything from his body, leaving a vortex storming him.

Castiel's legs tangled with Dean's and they toppled on the sofa's whining strings. Dean's heart was pounding like crazy. _He had kissed Cas_. The angel was on top of him trying to adjust himself in his drunken haze. Dean felt the weight of a lean body on him and their chests rising in unison. Castiel backed cautiously, blue eyes still flashing with desire and Dean's stomach made a full volt. _Cas had kissed him._ The thought breezed in his head like a cherub flock flapping their tiny wings and singing in chorus.

”I'm sorry, Dean... I'm sorry that I made you think I didn't want you”, Castiel's pained voice apologized. Dean felt the sting. ”Cas... you don't have to be sorry. I know you had your reasons”, Dean muttered, trying to comprehend that Cas had just said he ”wanted him”, as in, ”wanted” wanted. Castiel looked at him with such deep kindness in his eyes that Dean felt like he could dissolve right there and now. ”Dean, you are the only thing I've ever wanted. I abandoned my brothers and sisters, my home, for you. And I would do it a thousand times again”, he said with a hoarse voice, like he had been able to read Dean's mind, and felt like it was time to confirm the true shape of the bond they shared. A hand fell on Dean's cheek, and Cas was evidently gathering the courage to continue. He focused on the words, looking to find answers from Dean's green eyes. ”What do you want me to do?” Cas asked. The question surprised Dean and for a good moment he was just opening and closing his mouth, not because he had any more doubts about what they were, but because it was so sudden, so earnest, and after so many years stubbornly ignoring his feelings it was hard to answer truthfully. Finally, he let himself free and let out a request he had mulled over in his mind many times before: ”I want you to kiss me.”

And Cas did. But this time more tenderly and slowly, taking in the moment. Dean moved his body in a better position, letting Castiel anchor himself between his legs. Castiel's hands wandered on Dean's hips, trembling nervously, and Dean fumed with a warm feeling when he thought a seraph, who never wavered in battle, was getting jitters because of his first crush lying under him willing and ready to surrender. Soft hands slipped under Dean's shirt, mapping the curves of the bones and muscles, staying a little bit longer on small scars ornamenting his body, like Castiel was trying to imprint them on his memory. Dean sighed impatiently and grabbed his own shirt. ”Let me”, he groaned against the angel's lips and pulled the shirt over his head.

Dean tucked at Cas's shirt to give him a sign to lose it too and the angel backed down a little, letting Dean remove his shirt, taking the chance to admire hunter's toned body and smoothing his palms on the tanned chest and abdomen. Naked torsos subsided together as Cas bit down on Dean's neck. Dean could not help wondering who had taught the angel how to leave hickeys? Meg? April? It wasn't a pleasant thought, so he pushed it away quickly.

He fell blissfully to the cushions sighing when Castiel scattered kisses on his chest. Dean's hands wandered on the angel's back, dropping to the hips and guiding him closer to his own. When he felt the bulge against him, it made his mind race. An angel of the lord being hot and bothered in bed with him; the thought was surreal. But damn it made him happy that it was Castiel who was so desperately demanding Dean to move his hips for him. Dean moved his lower body slowly and smiled self-satisfied when Castiel reacted with a jolt. Guess he was really pushing the angel's buttons, because the hunter was rewarded with a forceful grind that made his own front crackle in friction. A layer of clothes had never felt as uncomfortable on him and he guided Castiel's hand to pull his pants off and made sure that the angel's were thrown away in the same motion.

The sudden realization that he actually had no experience with other guys hit him and almost made him chicken out. Sure, the thought had crossed his mind more than once, but it wasn't like he had a habit of giving hand jobs to random dudes in back alleys. _But he would try his best, for Cas's sake_ , Dean thought and rummaged through his arsenal of tricks that made himself shiver in pleasure in the darkest hours of the night. Dean moved his hand slowly down their shafts, kneading them against each other, trying to find the right pace and strokes that made the angel react. Cas's heavy pants next to his ear brought goosebumps on his neck and sweaty skin pressed against his own created swirl pools in his stomach. Dean's hand caressed Castiel with determination, eyes trying to find signs of his weak points.

Suddenly Cas pushed Dean tightly on the pillow and with a harsh voice that made shivers rise up on Dean's spine he commanded: ”Let me make you feel good too”.

The angel's hand moved in with Dean's, and intensely he started to pump and mimic the hunter's motions. Dean fell hard, his eyes rolling behind shut eyelids. Something about being pinned down with angelic force made his body burn hotter than hell's fire ever did. He gripped the sheets, knuckles white, the fingers of his free hand brushing through the dark hair before locking his grip on the angel's head. Cas grunted between the desperate humps, pushing Dean deeper onto the squeaking covers of the leather couch.

”C-Cas...!” Dean's voice broke when he came, stars bursting behind his eyes like the Fourth of July, back arched in a perfect curve. It took all of his willpower to keep his voice down. Castiel gave them a couple of strokes before finishing himself with a satisfied sigh. His face was flushed and out of breath when he lumped on top of Dean, lightheaded and drained. He turned to look at Dean, trying to push his brain back to function: ”Dean, I...I love you.”

The words that Dean himself had been too afraid to say aloud were like honey dripping in heavy air and forming a cocoon of devotion around him. His eyes fell shut, ”I know Cas”, he whispered before giving in for slumber.

-

Dean woke up with a splitting headache. He rose from his laying position, stretching his aching body and brushed a hand on cool leather with a feeling that something was missing. Cas was gone. Lazily in his head he skimmed through the last nights events, wanting to find a little regret about having sex with his best friend, but couldn't make himself feel too bad about it. And were they even just friends anymore? The nagging idea rooted itself in his head and Dean knew it wouldn't leave any time soon.

He looked around the room, not seeing a sign of the angel. Slight disappointment swept over him. Though he had no regrets of them finally sealing the deal, maybe Cas had realized Dean was shitty in bed and wasn't worth the trouble. _Stop it with the catastrophic thinking,_ he scolded himself. _Cas had clearly enjoyed himself last night and even said....what was it again he had said_? Dean pushed his brain to remember, but despite recalling kissing and fondling and feeling Cas near him, his memory was foggy about the details that were spoken.

Castiel's clothes were gone, and the living room was surprisingly clean, considering how hammered they had been. The couch and he himself had no signs of the dirty acts of the night. Thinking that Castiel had been thoughtful enough to do aftercare made Dean's cheeks burn with embarrassment, although he was glad Cas had used his mojo to clean up after them; explaining the mess to Sam would had been way worse. Dean got up heavily, his head pulsating and steps shaking. He crawled to the kitchen, where he found Sam already awake.

”You ok Dean?” he asked with a cheeky smile on his face. Dean gave him a pained groan. ”Where is Cas?”, he asked. Sam gave him a shrug and continued to read a paper he had spread in front of him. Dean leaned on the door frame, body shaking and stomach rumbling empty. _I just wish Cas didn't run away because of my stupid crush on him..._ Dean's negative thoughts crept back on him, and he never could have guessed he was even able to have drinker's remorse. _Maybe I was just good for a one-night-stand._

A familiar soft voice stopped his train wreck of thoughts: ”Good morning, Dean”.

Cas had flown next to him, almost startling Dean out of his socks. ”I brought you breakfast. Sam said it could help with your hangover.”

Castiel lifted a bag that probably contained a bagel, deducing from the crappy illustration decorating it's sides, and a cup holder with a coffee mug and an orange juice. The corner of his mouth curved into a kind smile and it made Dean's heart pump a little bit faster. He took the bag and cups from Cas and managed to mumble a quiet ”thank you”, feeling that he should add something else. There was that nagging question that had clung to his palate. What were they now? Friends? Brothers? Fuck buddies? Every option he came up with sounded wrong and tasted like ash in his mouth. He wanted more than just that kind of trivial relationship. _He wanted... he wanted something like..._

Castiel's hand settled on his neck and he was forced to meet the blue eyes once again. The angel cupped his other hand on Dean's face and brought it in for a quick kiss. ”Enjoy your breakfast”, he said before exiting the room, a little bit too abruptly for his usual self.

Dean had a hard time adjusting his face to a regular expression as he shifted his eyes to Sam to see if he had any reaction to what Cas had done. But Sam was busy reading the paper, and it seemed like he hadn't even noticed the scene happening in the kitchen. Dean's dumbfounded face emerged into an awkward grin. _He wanted something just like this_. Joy spread to his body, and the thought of waking up every morning next to Cas, kissing him and holding his hand tightly in his own, as cheesy as it sounded, made butterflies flutter in his stomach. Sam finally averted his eyes from the farmer's market deals to look at his brother who had a silly, dazed smile on his face.

”Dean”, he said tapping his neck: ”Bug bites” he whispered. Dean's smile melted and a flush rushed to his ears. He cursed Cas in and marched to the table with the bagel back rustling in his hand. Feeling that something in him had finally been resolved, he decided not to be bothered by his brother's know-it-all face smirking in self-sufficient triumph.


End file.
